


Snowbound

by dragon_temeraire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Cuddling & Snuggling, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff, Future Fic, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, Pining, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 10:52:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12130887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire
Summary: Derek and Stiles + a cabin in Michigan + a lot of snow = Pining





	Snowbound

**Author's Note:**

> [ This post](http://captain-snark.tumblr.com/post/158474532768/wastelandbonerhell-good-tier-snowed-in) made me want to write a fic that had snowed in, bed sharing, and mutual pining. Though I am by no means claiming that this is a god-tier fic!

“What the hell?” Stiles grumbles, watching the snow fall outside the window. It’s very beautiful, but also very unwanted. “It’s _April_.”

“Sometimes it snows until May here,” Derek says, and Stiles scowls.

“Well, if this trip is good for anything, it’s for showing me that Michigan is an awful place,” he huffs. “So much for having fun up here. I wanted to see the Mystery Spot!”

“The Mystery Spot is pretty lame,” Derek says, sitting on the couch next to him. “It’s just a crooked building on a hill.”

“Dude, there’s a _zip line_ ,” Stiles says, because he has his priorities in order. “But now we’re gonna be stuck here, in the middle of nowhere, for who knows how long.”

Derek looks vaguely guilty for a moment. “Look, the Northeast pack offered to let us use this cabin as part of negotiations. So we _had_ to come, or else they’d think we were being rude,” he says neutrally.

“Yeah, but it should have been Scott and Kira here. Being snowed in would be super romantic for them.” Stiles knows he’s whining, but he can’t help it. He’s gonna be stuck in a cabin with the werewolf of his dreams, and there’s no way it’s not going to get awkward.

“They still had several pack meetings left to do,” Derek says logically.

Though he wants to resent it, Stiles does appreciate how level-headed Derek has become over the years.

“Besides,” he finishes, “you did agree to go.”

“Yeah, to fulfill a lifelong dream of driving my jeep cross-country!”

And he’d actually had a lot of fun road tripping it up here with Derek, both of them taking turns behind the wheel. They’d managed to make in across the Mackinac Bridge before it had started to snow, but by the time they’d gotten to the cabin it had been coming down heavily. They’d hurriedly grabbed all their stuff and hauled it inside, and Derek had gotten a fire going in the living room fireplace.

And Stiles discovered that, while this cabin might be rustic, it at least had electricity and running water. It actually seemed pretty nice, but Stiles had chosen to sit on the couch and complain about the weather, rather than see the rest of the place.

He’s pretty sure they’re not going anywhere anytime soon, so he might as well remedy that.

“I’m gonna look around,” he says. “Check out our new digs.”

“Oh, boy,” Derek says, like he’s expecting the worst.

Stiles elects to ignore that.

He pokes through the cupboards in the kitchen first, and is relieved to see that they’re well-stocked with food. So they probably won’t starve.

Derek had told him the nearest town was only about ten miles away, but that seems way too far in this kind of weather. Though if he had to, Derek could probably make the walk, even in a blizzard.

He looks in the bathroom next, and is pleased to see that there’s a big tub. He might have to try a nice, relaxing soak later.

Just down the hall is the bedroom, and Stiles peeks inside, curious. This is evidently where Derek had put some of their luggage, because it’s arranged neatly against the wall. But he can’t help noticing that in the middle of this lovely, spacious bedroom is only _one_ bed.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

He briefly considers sleeping on the couch, but he knows he’d be way too cold, even if he got up every few hours to add wood to the fire. And he’ll be perfectly cozy if he shares a bed with Derek, because Stiles knows for a fact that he puts out heat like a furnace. (He may have fallen asleep on Derek during a pack movie night. Maybe.)

This is what Derek’s expecting him to make a fuss over, and he refuses to do it. Even if he _is_ freaking out on the inside.

He’s been wanting to end up in bed with Derek for ages, but not like this.

This is going to be _awkward_.

He goes back into the living room with a smile pasted on his face. “Guess we’re gonna be snuggle buddies,” he says brightly.

Derek shakes his head, but he looks amused. Then he goes to back to working on the crossword puzzle book he bought at the last gas station they visited.

What a dork.

Stiles digs through his bag, looks at all the books he brought, and sighs. None of them are calling to him right now. Knowing that they’re stuck here is beginning to make him feel restless and agitated.

When he says as much to Derek, he cocks his head and says, “We can’t drive anywhere, but you can still go outside. Just bundle up.”

Stiles grimaces at that, because he certainly didn’t pack any snow gear. He was expecting nice _April weather_. He ends up borrowing some stuff from Derek, layering a few of his shirts over his own.

When he walks back into the living room, there’s a flare of _something_ in Derek’s eyes, just for a second, when he sees Stiles wearing his clothes.

Whoops, maybe he should have asked first.

“I see you decided to steal some of my clothes for this winter outing,” Derek says neutrally.

“The word is _borrow_ , Derek,” Stiles says, hoping to make him smile. “I swear you’ll get everything back. Eventually.”

And if he’d happened to _actually_ steal one of Derek’s thumbhole sweaters right out of his closet, well, he just really hopes Derek hasn’t noticed yet.

Derek makes a snort of disbelief, then goes back to his puzzle.

Stiles takes that as his cue to leave, and he shoves his hands into his gloves as he pulls the front door open. The cold is a sharp shock to his exposed face, and he blinks rapidly as the wind stings his eyes. He’s not sure this was such a great idea.

But then he imagines how smug Derek will be if he goes back inside after two seconds, and it strengthens his resolve. He walks carefully out to the middle of the yard, liking the way the snow crunches under his feet.

It’s already almost up to his knees and still coming down, so fast that he can only see a few feet in front of him. He tips up his head to watch it fall, and can’t resist sticking out his tongue to catch some of the tiny flakes.

Everything seems so quiet and still out here, and the snow smells crisp and clean. He stands there admiring it for a while, breath streaming out in front of him, before he decides to do something.

He doesn’t have much snowman building experience, so he makes a tiny one first. Then, because it’s so cute, he makes another. It turns out kind of lopsided, and its head is too big, but he likes it anyway.

Though he is tempted to wrap a scarf around its neck and call it Isaac.

He snickers to himself, picturing it, then decides he’s going to make a snowman for everyone in the pack. When he’s done, he’ll take a photo, and he can joke that they were all really here with him after all.

He works on his technique until it gets dark. He’s feeling pretty chilled anyway, so he figures it’s time to go back inside.

The heat briefly smothers him when he steps through the door, and makes him shiver a little. He hangs his jacket up by the door, and after a moment of consideration, leaves his snowy boots on the mat. The cold feels like it’s clinging to his layers, so he slips off his outer pair of pants, too.

“Did you have fun?” Derek calls from the kitchen, and Stiles goes to investigate.

“I did, yeah,” he says, and sees that Derek has soup heating on the stove.

“I’m glad,” Derek says, giving him a little smile. “And you had good timing, dinner’s almost ready.” He softly touches Stiles’ arm, and guides him to the kitchen table. “Have a seat. I’ll bring you some in a minute, it’ll warm you up for sure.”

Stiles grins, feeling warmer already.

 

*

 

He’s in his pajamas, his teeth are freshly brushed, and the floor is icy-cold even through his socks, but he still hesitates.

Derek looks up from his book, and catches him lingering in the doorway. “Well?” he says, lifting the blankets on the other side of the bed, and his eyebrows mock Stiles.

He ends up practically vaulting into the bed, wiggling under the covers as fast as he can. Derek has several quilts piled on, and Stiles figures that’s mainly for his benefit. It’s pretty cozy, and he squirms around a bit, getting himself tucked in nicely.

When he’s finally comfortable, he catches Derek eyeing him in amusement. “You good?” he asks, and Stiles can almost hear the laugh in his voice.

“Very,” he answers, feeling contented and sleepy. “I apologize in advance if I kick you,” he mumbles. _Or if I accidentally touch you._

“It’ll be fine,” Derek says, and turns off the lamp.

Stiles drifts off to sleep, reminding himself to stay on his own side of the bed.

 

*

 

And when he wakes up in the middle of the night, he’s still right where he’s supposed to be. But despite being under the covers, he’s absolutely _freezing._ He tries to burrow in deeper as he curls into a ball, but it doesn’t help. His feet feel like ice blocks.  

Fuck.

And there’s no way he’s getting out of this bed to bank the fire.

So there’s only one other option—get closer to the natural heater sharing the bed with him.

Stiles stretches out onto his side, and then slowly, carefully inches back toward Derek, hoping not to wake him. In the dark, it’s difficult to estimate how much space is really between them, so he startles a little when he actually bumps into Derek.

Well, it _is_ warmer already. He edges away, then tries to lean into Derek’s space without actually touching him. He’s concentrating really hard, so it takes him by surprise when Derek suddenly slings an arm over Stiles and pulls him back against his chest.

“You cold?” he asks sleepily, his hand pleasantly warm against Stiles’ stomach.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, but he’s definitely feeling better now.

“Mmm. Thought so,” Derek mumbles. Then he’s moving again, fitting his legs right up behind Stiles’, his hips settling softly against Stiles’ ass.

It’s actually…really nice, being the little spoon. He feels warm and safe, surrounded by Derek like this.

He lets Derek’s heat seep through him, lets his tense muscles loosen up, and drifts back to sleep.

 

*

 

When he wakes up in the morning, they’re in pretty much the same positon, but there’s a little more space between their bodies. What had seemed like a good idea at three in the morning seems dangerous now, but the feeling of Derek’s arm curled over his side is too good for Stiles to actually move.

Though being awake while this close to Derek is making him a little _too_ warm. His jackrabbiting heart must give him away, because Derek stirs a few moments later.

It almost feels like he nuzzles the back of Stiles neck, and his hand skates across Stiles’ ribs before he rumbles, “Good morning,” and rolls out of bed.

There’s an inrush of cold air under the blankets, and Stiles yelps and quickly cocoons himself up, ducking his head under the covers, too. There’s no way he’s getting out of this nice, warm bed. He lives here now.

There’s a long lull where he starts to doze off, then Derek says, “I got a fire going in the living room, it’s nice and toasty in there.”

Stiles doesn’t budge.

“So you can get up now,” Derek says pointedly.

“Don’t wanna,” Stiles mumbles.

“Why not?” Derek asks, clearly humoring him.

“I’m warm in here,” Stiles says from his blanket nest. “It’s cold out there.”

There’s some noise, then something lands on top of the covers. When he peeks out, he sees that it’s one of Derek’s soft, cozy sweaters.

Oh, so Derek’s _volunteering_ his clothes now. Stiles can’t help feeling pleased.

He emerges enough to wiggle into the sweater, pulling it on over his pajama shirt. When he looks back up, Derek is watching him, one eyebrow cocked.

“Well?”

“Still not getting out of bed,” Stiles says cheerfully. “I’m too comfortable to touch that ice-cold floor.”

Derek sighs, but he starts digging in his bag again. After a moment, he grabs something out and tosses it over. It bounces gently off Stiles’ chest and lands in his lap.

“Ooh,” he says when he realizes it’s a pair of the thickest, snuggliest socks ever. “Wow, I’ve never seen these before,” he says, carefully unfolding them. They feel like a soft cloud.

“They’re from when I used to live in New York,” Derek says.

“Oh.” Stiles tries not to react. Derek _never_ talks about New York. “They must have been great for the winters there.”

“Yeah, I loved them,” Derek says. And though he’s smiling, he looks a little bit sad. “We used to have about fifteen pairs, one in every color they made.”

Stiles isn’t really sure what to say, because he doesn’t want to upset Derek. He never wants that. Instead, he just quietly says, “Thank you.”

Derek nods. “I’m going to get breakfast started,” he says.

After a few moments, Stiles carefully, _gently_ slides the socks on, then edges out of bed and joins Derek in the kitchen.

 

*

 

The snow is still coming down that afternoon, and Stiles decides he doesn’t want to go back out in it. Not today, anyway.

He gets bored, though, so he starts rummaging around the cabin instead. He finds a big box of craft supplies under the bed, and cackles gleefully when he opens it up.

“Hey, Derek!” he calls. “We’re allowed to use whatever we want, right?”

“Yes,” Derek says, but his tone sounds worried, like he thinks Stiles is going to get himself into trouble.

And that’s fair, really. But he’s not going to do anything that involves fire this time.

He’s pulling out partial skeins of yarn when Derek walks in. “Going to take up knitting?” he asks, smirking. “You know we’re not actually going to be here that long, right?”

“Says you,” Stiles grumbles. “It’s _still_ snowing.” He shrugs. “Besides, I’m just working on a little project to keep myself occupied.”

“Okay,” Derek says, but he doesn’t seem convinced. “Let me know if you need any help.”

Then he goes back to the living room, probably to work on his crosswords, or maybe Sudoku. He likes all kinds of puzzles, Stiles has discovered.

After a few more minutes of sitting on the floor, Stiles decides to join him. Derek has a nice fire going in the living room, so he knows its _way_ warmer in there.

He begins to wish he _could_ knit as he carefully weaves and knots the yarn together. He’s only trying to make a passable miniature scarf, but it’s harder work than he thought it’d be. He catches Derek giving him amused looks from time to time, so at least his efforts are keeping them both entertained.

“Ta da!” he says delightedly when he’s done.

Derek looks over and laughs. “I don’t think that’s gonna fit you,” he says.

“It’s not supposed to,” Stiles says, laying the tiny scarf over the arm of the couch. He considers beginning work on a tiny bow and arrow for Allison’s snowman, but his stomach decides it’s time to eat instead.

He makes grilled cheese sandwiches while Derek warms up the leftover soup, and it feels nice. It’s pleasantly domestic to cook with Derek.

Stiles feels pretty lazy after that, so he opens up his laptop and sprawls on the couch with it. There’s no internet, but he still has Minesweeper and Solitaire. And it’s really easy to sneak peeks around the screen, catching glimpses of Derek’s concentration-face as he works his way through his puzzle book.

His little frown when he’s stumped is very cute.

 

*

 

Stiles pokes around in the bathroom after dinner, and is delighted to find a bottle of bubble bath. He decides he’s going to have a nice, long soak before bedtime.

He fills the tub and plays with the bubbles for a while, then settles in with as much of himself under the water as he can. He has his eyes closed, and is in a state of total relaxation, when there’s a tap on the door. He doesn’t move at all, just opens his mouth enough to say, “Come in.”

He hears the door open, and then Derek says, “I know you probably aren’t planning to get out any time soon, but I wanted to let you know that I found a chocolate pie in the freezer. I have it thawing now, so just keep that in mind.”

“Mmm,” Stiles says, smiling. “Well played. I’ll be out soon.”

It’s only after Derek leaves, and he manages to drag open his eyes, that he realizes the bubbles have almost completely disappeared. So Derek probably saw more than he was expecting when he opened the door. Oops.

 

*

 

Stiles does manage to get out of the tub eventually. It’s mostly because the water was getting cold, but Derek doesn’t need to know that. He towels off, then puts on his flannel pajamas, because he likes to feel cozy. They’re also plaid, which is sort of his trademark by now.

He sits at the kitchen table and eats the delicious pie with Derek. And honestly, Stiles just never gets tired of watching him enjoy the simple things in life. He deserves all those tiny joys more than anyone, he’s sure.

“So,” Derek says when they’re done eating. “While you were soaking, I found a space heater we can put in the bedroom. Maybe then you won’t be so cold tonight.”

He says it teasingly, so Stiles figures he didn’t actually mind the impromptu cuddling last night.

 

*

 

The space heater doesn’t work.

Or it does, but just barely. Stiles tries to put it right next to the bed, but Derek warns him that the sheets might catch fire. Stiles is very sure their situation won’t be improved by him burning the cabin down, so he quickly moves the heater back.

After he slides into bed, Derek immediately pulls him close, no pretense at all. Stiles lets himself relax back against Derek, liking the feeling of being practically covered by him. The warmth and the contact are making his heart race, though. He’s not sure how much of this platonic night time snuggling he can take. Not without breaking and telling Derek he’s in love with him.

Being held like this makes him feel…vulnerable.

“This okay?” Derek asks then, his arm already starting to lift away.

“It’s good,” Stiles says quickly, his hand curling around Derek’s wrist. He’ll savor this while he can.

There’s a long pause, and then Derek slowly unwinds again, curling up close to Stiles. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Stiles whispers back. He falls asleep surprisingly fast, and he doesn’t wake up cold even once.

 

*

 

When he wakes up in the morning, Stiles is delighted to find that it’s no longer snowing. When he says as much to Derek, he just shrugs and says, “Yeah, it stopped yesterday evening.”

“How was I supposed to know? We don’t all have werewolf senses.”

“No werewolf senses required,” Derek says, smirking. “You just had to look out the window.”

Stiles elects to ignore that, and starts cracking eggs for breakfast. Derek grins and starts cooking the bacon.

Since it looks nice out, Stiles decides to work on his project that afternoon. He bundles up, but is then halted at the door by Derek, who makes him tie trash bags to his feet.

“Those thick socks won’t do you any good if they’re soaked through,” he says sternly when Stiles tries to protest.

He _did_ get snow in his boots last time, so he supposes Derek has a point. And he’ll be able to stay out there longer if he’s not freezing.

The snow is sloped up against the door, so Stiles carefully squeezes out, trying not to let too much get inside the cabin. Then he tromps out into the yard, and starts working on his first snowman.

Derek edges out the door a few minutes later, snow shovel in hand. He quickly clears off the porch while Stiles pretends not to watch. He’s never failed to admire Derek’s easy physicality.

Derek has a flush on his cheeks by the time he’s done, and Stiles can’t help being disappointed when he heads back inside.

Then he gets back to work, and tries to figure out if he can sculpt a snow wolf. Or maybe he’ll just make a life size snowman, and put Derek’s leather jacket on it. Either way, he’ll save that for last.

He gets the Isaac snowman done pretty quickly, despite his amateur skills. He pulls the tiny scarf out of his pocket, and wraps it carefully, stylishly, around the snowman’s neck. Somehow, it manages to look smug, and Stiles grins.

Perfect.

He quickly yanks off his gloves, and grabs his phone out as the cold bites painfully into his hands. He snaps a picture, then moves to a better angle and takes another. Then he shoves his gloves back on and starts working again.

He’s in the middle of making Erica’s snowman when Derek comes back out. “Stiles, come inside,” he calls from the porch.

“I haven’t been out here _that_ long,” Stiles protests. “I’m not getting frost bite, I promise.”

“That’s not it,” Derek says quickly. “There’s another storm on the way.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, and suddenly realizes that Derek isn’t even wearing _shoes_. He obviously came out in a hurry.

Stiles drags himself out of the snow drift he was working in, and starts making his way to the porch as fast as he can in the deep snow. The wind starts picking up as he does, and a hard gust sends powdery snow right into his face.

He flails, trying to wipe it away, and ends up stumbling and falling down into the snow. He squirms, trying to get up, but snow is _heavy_. He feels like he’s stuck, and just as he’s about to really start freaking out, Derek grabs the back of his jacket and lifts him up, up, until he has Stiles slung over his shoulder.  

Then he wades through the snow, and doesn’t set Stiles down until they reach the front door.

Stiles, who got snow down the front of his jacket, shivers and hurriedly follows Derek inside. They stop at the big mat in the entryway and carefully take off their snow-covered clothes. For Stiles it’s just his outer layers, but Derek on the other hand—

Stiles has to quickly look away when he takes off his shirt _and_ pants.

“Stiles, give me your stuff so I can put it in the dryer,” he says, and Stiles carefully hands everything over while continuing to avert his gaze.

Then he just keeps standing there, shivering, as Derek heads for the laundry room. A few moments later, a towel hits him in the face.

“You have snow in your hair,” Derek says helpfully, smirking at him.

Stiles is just relieved to see he’s put clothes on.

 

*

 

It doesn’t snow much more, but the storm blows it into swirls and eddies, makes it patter against the windows. Stiles has never been so grateful to be warm and dry.

Playing in the snow has tired him out, so before he even thinks about it, he slumps down on the couch, resting his head on Derek’s thigh. It hits him an instant too late that it’s probably a bad idea, but then Derek’s hand is settling in his hair, and he suddenly doesn’t care.

The fabric of Derek’s sweat pants is soft against his cheek, and he nuzzles in a little, letting his eyes drift shut. He dozes for a while, and when he wakes up, Derek has the little radio on the side table turned on. It’s too low for him to make out what’s being broadcasted, so he looks at Derek questioningly as he sits up.

“It’s a report on the storm,” Derek says. “It’s nearly over. They’re going to start clearing the roads tomorrow.”

“Sweet,” Stiles says cheerfully.

“Though we’ll still have to shovel out the driveway,” Derek adds pragmatically.

“Ah, you could get that done in twenty minutes,” Stiles says dismissively.

Derek raises an eyebrow. “You realize there’s more than three feet of snow out there, right?” he says. “Also, this cabin is really only equipped for summer use. There’s no snow blower, there’s only the shovel I was using.”

“So it’s going to take a little longer, is what you’re saying,” Stiles says, shrugging.

Derek nods, but he looks kind of…guilty.

Stiles narrows his eyes. “What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Well,” Derek starts carefully. “They’re going to _start_ plowing tomorrow. But they probably won’t get to this country road for another three days.”

“Three days?” Stiles repeats, shocked. “By then it’ll have started snowing again! We’re _never_ gonna get out of here!”

He expects Derek to say something sensible or reassuring. Instead he just looks down and says, “I need to apologize to you.”

Stiles blinks at the non sequitur. “For what?” he asks, because he honestly can’t think of anything Derek has done wrong.

“For getting you stuck here, in the middle of nowhere,” Derek says quietly. “I knew it was going to snow—I could smell it in the air. And I was going to have you drive us into town, so we could stay at a hotel until the storm passed.”

“So why didn’t you?” He’s not angry, just curious.

“I had hoped,” Derek says, scratching his stubble nervously. “That if I spend some time with you here, I’d be able to work up the nerve. To tell you how I feel.”

Stiles swallows nervously, his whole body drawing tight in anticipation, and near-whispers, “How _do_ you feel?”

Derek begins to smile. “I specifically requested that Scott send just you and I here. So I’d have the chance to tell you that I’m in love with you.”

Stiles grins back, his heart practically beating out of his chest. “And here I was worried this whole time that you’d figure out _I_ was in love with _you_.”

“I—I didn’t know,” Derek says, looking genuinely surprised.

“Have been for a while,” Stiles says, leaning closer. “That’s why I was freaking out about being snowed in.”

“Because…you thought I’d find out about your feelings?” Derek asks curiously.

“Yeah, and then you’d turn me down, and then we’d be trapped here together while things got _super_ awkward.”

“Well, in case you hadn’t noticed,” Derek says, amused, “you’re definitely not being turned down.”

Stiles rests his hand on Derek’s arm, and inches closer. “This doesn’t feel awkward, either,” he says.

“Not at all,” Derek murmurs, right before kissing him softly.

 

*

 

They don’t even notice when the roads get cleared, because they spend the next few days in bed. And Stiles decides that he doesn’t mind being snowed in after all.

Because it definitely has its perks.

 

*

 

Stiles does get his snowman version of the pack done before they finally leave. (As they’re packing up, Stiles tries to call Scott and tell him they’re snowed in again, but Derek catches him. And reminds him that he has a perfectly nice loft they can spend a lot of quality time in once they get back.)

Derek helps him build the snowmen, and even digs out snow-Isaac’s tiny scarf, which had been buried by the storm. They take several photos of the snow-pack, then they set Stiles’ phone on a timer and take a picture of them kissing in the snow. It turns out great.

When they return to Beacon Hills, Stiles distributes the pictures of the snow-pack to everyone. They smile and laugh, but Stiles knows they’re secretly pleased.

He prints the picture of him and Derek kissing in the snow, and hangs it on the wall of Derek’s bedroom. And he smiles, because it looks like it belongs there.

When Derek comes in a few minutes later, sliding his arms around Stiles’ waist and kissing the back of his neck, he definitely agrees.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come by and prompt me/talk to me [ on tumblr](http://dragon-temeraire.tumblr.com/).


End file.
